Hermione Granger and the Chaos Artifact
by Freya Ishtar
Summary: Plagued by sinful dreams & mysterious, burning marks, and needing to appease a cranky deity so he won't unleash anarchy on newly restored Hogwarts, Hermione's forced to act on desires she didn't know she had. Fulfilling Set's demands makes her rethink her feelings for Harry ... AND Draco. But chaos gods aren't known for keeping their word. (Dramione/Harmione/Drarry) MATURE CONTENT
1. A Pretty Ring

**Thank you so much to everyone who has added me, or any of my fics, to their Favorite or Alert lists. I have officially passed the 400 mark on both 'Favorite Author' and 'Author Alert' listings. I appreciate the love & support with all of my heart :)**

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**Please note**: **For t****hose new to my stories, the opening premise may seem a bit cliché, but I ask that you bear with me for just a little while. My regular readers can tell you what starts from a seemingly cliché point with me, quickly becomes its own, unique, tale. Also, my regular readers will notice I often send the Weasleys packing to Romania after the War (a la **_**Nights at Malfoy **__**Manor **_**& **_**Distractions**_**). This is simply something I do to cleanly remove the Weasleys from the picture, as I intend to complicate the characters' lives enough, I don't need to add cheating on their significant others to the turmoil and angst they're about to endure. ;)**

*It is only in the DH pt. 2_ movie _that Goyle dies (in the DH book, its Crabbe). I didn't resurrect any characters XD.

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**My other current **_**HP **_**F****anfictions:**

_A Night Unfettered _(Dramione [One-Shot, Lemon])

_Distractions _(Dramione/Harmione/Hints of Drarry [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

_Lessons in Hedonism _(Draco/Hermione/Blaise [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

_Nights at Malfoy Manor _(Dramione/Bits of Lumione/Hints of Harmione)

_The Scavengers _([AU] Dramione)

_Silver Blood _([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me _(Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_Unnatural Magick _([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own _Harry Potter_ or any affiliated characters, and make no money from this story.

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**Chapter One**

A Pretty Ring

"Don't worry, mum, I'll get it," Hermione said, smiling as she knelt to put the spilt assortment of jewelry back into its fallen box.

After her awkward breakup with Ron, the Weasleys' decision to move to Romania to distance themselves from the emotional aftermath of the War, and Harry leaving for the summer to check on the Dursleys, she was so grateful to have her parents home—their memories restored—that she'd have scrubbed all the floors in the house with a toothbrush, had they asked. Honestly, she knew Harry was trying to keep himself occupied so he wouldn't focus on Ron and Ginny's absence in their lives, but he _was_ also genuinely worried about his relatives, after everything. How he could manage being such a good nephew when they were always so awful to him was beyond her.

As she scooped up the mass of glittering metal, something stung her palm and she dropped it all, again. Hissing softly, she rubbed the pad of her thumb against her palm.

"Are you all right?" Her mother was to her instantly, pulling Hermione's other hand away to check. Clearly even being the brightest witch of her age didn't stop her mum from fussing over her.

"I'm fine," Hermione said, gently prying her hand from her mother's grip. With an encouraging grin, she turned back to picking up the mess.

A single item had popped free of the tangle, to sit alone on the floor. Hermione felt oddly as though the thing was actually _staring_ at her. Biting her lip, she kept her gaze on the gleaming band of gold and onyx as she blindly scooped the rest of the accessories back into the jewelry box.

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that," Mum said softly, her voice light as she picked up the ring. When she turned it in her fingers, Hermione spied a small, blue stone set into the surface.

Brow furrowing, the girl tipped her head as she watched her mother examine the piece of jewelry. "I don't think I've seen that one before."

"That's because I never wore it." Smiling serenely, her mum set the ring on her palm. "I think I was always a little afraid to. This is a family heirloom, after a fashion, and I was always worried I'd lose it. Your granddad gave this to me. _His _father brought it back from Egypt when he was stationed there with the . . . oh I forgot what Division. Worthless piece of costume junk he got from a street merchant, but your granddad _loved_ it. Would have worn it, if he hadn't thought it too feminine."

Hermione settled her hands around her mother's. "Nothing is worthless when it belonged to someone important to you."

Meeting her gaze, her mother said, "Why don't you take it? All it's going to do is collect dust in my jewelry box."

"Oh, mum, I couldn't!"

"My practical-minded, _eighteen-year-old_ daughter just had to explain sentimental value to me. Go on, I think he would have liked you to have it."

Her mouth pulling to one side, Hermione tipped her head as she looked at it once more. The ring actually was quite pretty . . . and the design was unique. It might not be as _special_ as the trinkets her friends at Hogwarts inherited from their families, but it was important to her mum, and her granddad; that was enough.

"Okay." She held out her right hand, fingers splayed.

Measuring by sight, her mother took a guess and slipped the ring onto Hermione's middle finger.

A jumble of images flashed through Hermione's mind. Like snapshots . . . the tunnels that ran everywhere beneath Hogwarts—known to everyone, now, the way all secrets at Hogwarts became known to everyone—Draco Malfoy, Harry, a dark-skinned stranger, with eyes an oddly familiar shade of blue, serpents. In a dizzy rush, each picture zipped across her mind's eye, there, and gone so fast, she couldn't be certain she actually saw any of it, at all.

"Perfect fit." mum said, smiling.

Hermione gave herself a shake; clearly only a split-second had passed. Too short a time to see the things she _thought_ she had. Blinking, Hermione flexed her fingers, eyeing the ring. She couldn't feel anything from it . . . the metal rested against her skin, no unsettling vibe, no dark aura.

The ring was utterly lifeless, like any other muggle-crafted item.

She breathed a sigh of relief, forcing a smile so that her mother might remain oblivious. Whatever she saw was a figment of her imagination. Her personal history with horcruxes must've made her wary of antique jewelry pieces, costume junk, or otherwise, she reasoned. She needed sleep—before long, it'd be time to board the train for her final year at Hogwarts, and she didn't want to miss a single second of this last journey.

"You're right," Hermione said, shrugging off the bizarre tangle of mental images. "Perfect fit."

* * *

Hermione started awake, realizing the Hogwarts Express was pulling in. She shifted to stretch, but a weight pinned one shoulder. Turning to look, she saw Harry had nodded off as well, his head tipped to rest against her. He had been worn out from putting up with his aunt and uncle—oddly, he'd pointed out that Dudley wasn't so bad, anymore.

She'd simply not realized she was worn out, as well. Probably from putting off her packing until the last minute, and then tackling the lot of it in a blind rush.

Giggling softly, she shrugged her shoulder, nudging him. "C'mon, Harry, we're arriving."

Harry lifted his head slowly, blinking drowsily at her. "Hmm? Oh, sorry."

She hadn't seen his green eyes so close in a long while. For a quick moment, she was reminded of that jumbled flash of images from the other day. Hermione was jarred by the strange, stilted realization that her best friend had grown quite handsome over the years she'd known him.

His brow furrowed and he sat up fully, holding her gaze. "What's wrong?"

Blinking, she lowered her attention to her ring, twisting it on her finger as she spoke. "Nothing, just um . . . I know you weren't planning on coming back to Hogwarts. I know you're only here because of me, so I just wanted to say thank you."

"You're welcome." After a moment, she still didn't look up. Frowning, Harry leaned very close to her face. "And Hermione?"

Finally, she lifted her gaze only to flinch, startled by his sudden nearness.

"Life's been hard enough for us, up until now." Breaking into a mischievous grin, he gently flicked her in the middle of her forehead.

She squeaked out a sound of surprise and lurched back, rubbing her fingertips over the faintly stinging skin.

"Let's try not to be so serious this last year, okay?"

Forcing a smile, she nodded.

Try as she might, she couldn't push aside a strange new awareness of Harry's closeness throughout the evening. She was equally aware of the moment Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall and drifted past them to sit in a corner of the Slytherin table, by himself. Clearly unable to take a hint, his usual lackeys followed close behind him.

She wasn't certain how she knew it would be him strolling by when she glanced over her shoulder, she simply_ did_. Yet, just as looking at Harry called to mind that jumbled mess of images, so too did gazing upon the Slytherin brat for the first time in the handful of months since the War.

Hermione tried not to look at Draco, but her eyes wandered to him, regardless. The moment she thought to glance away, he shivered visibly, and turned his head, catching her gaze.

He made no expression, merely staring back at her for a long moment before forcing a gulp and returning his attention to a plate of food in which he didn't appear very interested. Pansy and Blaise sat across from him, carrying on some animated discussion, while Goyle listened, chuckling as he stuffed his face. None of them appeared to notice Draco's wavering attention.

_Some friends_, she thought as she turned back to listen to more of Harry's plans to rebuild the Gryffindor Quidditch team and put the past as firmly behind them as possible. There was no way she would acknowledge that she actually felt a bit sorry for a Malfoy.

Later that night, Hermione tossed and turned for God only knew how long. She wasn't certain why she couldn't sleep, wasn't certain what she felt, being back at their beloved—magically reconstructed, so that no one could tell it was nearly turned into a giant pile of rubble—Wizarding school. Wasn't certain how she was really taking the Weasley clan's absence.

All she was certain of when she finally drifted off, was a faint tingling of the skin beneath her ring—she never felt inclined to remove it when she slept—and another flash of those same images. The tunnels, Malfoy, Harry, the dark stranger, serpents, oddly unlike the ones associated with Slytherin . . . . Not green and silver, _no,_ rich shades of gold and jet.

* * *

_She shifted, her eyelids lifting slowly. Yet only a heartbeat ticked by before she realized that the comfortable chair she reclined against was _not_ a chair. Turning her head as she pulled herself with great effort to sit forward, she met the turquoise-shaded gaze of the dark-skinned stranger. From his posture, Hermione got the distinct impression that he was quite tall when standing, glossy onyx hair fell to his shoulders, and he had full, wide lips, his jaw dusted with a perfect sprinkling of facial hair._

_Her brow furrowed, giving her a drowsy expression as she looked at him. He ran long fingers over her forearms in light, tickling strokes, and she tried to lean away from him, but found her body would not listen to her, anymore._

_"Am I dreaming?"_

_He smiled, sitting up with a lazy air, so that his chest pressed to her back, again. "Of course you are." Bringing one arm around to cup a hand beneath her chin, he lowered that beautiful mouth to the side of her throat, his lips brushing her skin as he turned her head forward._

_Hermione gasped, but not from the feel of his teeth and tongue dragging against her, nor the sweet, but not-very-familiar sensation it sent washing through her. The chaise upon which they were seated faced a gilded mirror—the border carved with strange-looking animal figures, and winged shapes—yet her reflection was not cradled by the reflection of the dark man with the pretty eyes, but by Draco Malfoy._

_"I don't understand," she whispered, even as her body sank back against the stranger's of its own volition. "Why is _he_ there?"_

_He chuckled ignoring her shock as his hands began to wander beneath her clothes—the hands of the pale-haired young man in the mirror mimicking his motions, exactly. "Because you desire him."_

_Forcing a gulp down her throat, she shook her head, unable to look away from the spectacle of Draco's hands moving under her clothes—one slipping down between her thighs, as the other slid up to cup her breast. The stranger's fingers moved against her, stroking and working these most sensitive bits of her, and Hermione felt herself shudder beneath his touch. Every inch of her skin grew warm, tingly, and it took extraordinary effort to keep her thoughts from dulling._

_"I do _not _desire him."_

_Once more, he chuckled as he pulled her more tightly against him. "Oh, yes, you do. I have seen it; buried, yes, but there, all the same. I bid you take him."_

_She tried to ignore the faster stroking of the fingers between her thighs, the sweet, rough pinches of the fingers teasing one hardened nipple. "Take him, I don't understand." _Tried_, but failed, a soft moan tearing from her throat._

_"I desire him, also; I have seen him through you. You will have him _for_ me. I will ask things of you, Nephthys, this is only the first."_

_"Nephthys?" Hermione struggled to pull away, despite how good this felt, despite that her reflection didn't put up any such objections to Draco's touch. "My name is—"_

_"I know what your name is, but _this_ is what I shall call you. And you _will_ do the things I ask of you." __ He chuckled again, a darker and richer sound than before as he pressed himself more tightly against her, letting her feel that he was hard._ "You will grant me moments of random, thoughtless action. Or I will—"

* * *

Hermione bolted up in bed. Gasping for breath, she wrenched the ring from her finger and slammed it down on the bedside table.

She did not sleep the rest of the night, staring at the ring, almost without blinking, until the sun rose.

It didn't give off the faintest ripple of energy. No negative vibration, just as before. The dream _might_ be a figment of her imagination.

* * *

"I wouldn't worry, Miss Granger, I've had everyone on staff take a look at it. Your ring is perfectly safe."

Hermione nodded, scooping up the ring and tucking it away in her pocket. Of course, she'd not shared with Head Matron, Professor McGonagall, precisely why she wanted the ring examined, only citing her previous experiences with bewitched, and Voldemort-containing items as cause enough for concern.

Frowning, she turned to the one place that always comforted her.

Harry found her in the library. Honestly—they'd been back a day, and she was already so immersed in studies that she was about to miss dinner.

"Nephthys," she muttered as he drew close to her table. "Finally, there you are! Wife-consort of Set. Set, god of storms, the desert, and . . . chaos." Hermione's voice was hollow as she said the last word. _Moments of random, thoughtless action._

The skin where she ring had been itched suddenly, feeling strangely empty. She nearly reached to take the damned thing from her pocket, but stopped herself. _Or I will _what_?_ She fretted, wondering what her poorly timed wakefulness had pulled her away from hearing. Whatever he'd intended to say _couldn't_ be good.

"C'mon, Hermione. Enough studying, time to eat."

"Hmm?" She looked up, startled. "Oh, right, okay, Harry."

Closing the tome before her, Harry beat her to picking it up and turned away to place it in the nearest empty spot on the shelf.

As she pushed up to stand, she felt a searing on the inside of her wrist. Biting her lip, she raised her arm and pulled down the cuff of her sleeve. There, on her skin was a symbol, yet not just any symbol— a _hieroglyph. _She wasn't certain what it meant, only that it resembled a few she'd seen beside Set's name in that book.

_Life's been hard enough for us, up until now. . . . Let's try not to be so serious this last year, okay? _Harry's words from yesterday rang in her ears, stopping her from showing him the mark, shutting down any thought of telling him what she was really doing in the library just now.

The searing worsened and she stuffed her hand into her pocket as Harry turned back to her. She let him lead her from the library, struggling, one-handed, in the confined space of her pocket, to pull the ring back on.

As the metal slid into place against her skin, the searing stopped.

Stepping into the Great Hall, she was once more acutely aware of Harry beside her . . . and of Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin table, elbows propped, once more, on either side of an untouched plate as he stared glumly at nothing in particular.

_Random, thoughtless actions. Chaos_ . . . her mind whispered.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched into the room. She would find a way to figure out what was going on, and she would deal with it _without_ ruining an eighth year Harry was only taking because of her. But first, she would try to get Set off her back.

"Hermione? Where are you going?"

She only shook her head, continuing straight to the Slytherin table and pushing some fourth year out of her way to sit facing Draco. Blaise and Pansy stopped another of their ridiculous, prattling conversations, and Goyle looked ready to choke on his mouthful of mush in surprise. Draco turned slowly, fixing wide eyes on her.

"Merlin's beard, Granger, trying to give the lot of us heart attacks?"

Her expression determined, she decided to strike before he could object. Hands shooting forward, she cupped his face and pulled him close, pressing her lips to his.

He grasped her wrists, intent on pulling her hands away, but he froze, uncertain what to do. He'd not been prepared for _Hermione Granger _to kiss him . . . she'd probably been dared to do this. But he also wasn't prepared for the pressure of her mouth softening, or for her lips parting as she drew the breath from him, causing him to shudder in her grasp.

She shot backward, as surprised as he by that very last sensation—by that faint, fluttering second of tingling warmth.

For a long moment, they only stared at each other, painfully aware of the silence in the Great Hall.

"Granger, bloody hell!" Draco finally forced himself to say, plastering a scowl in place.

"I . . . I . . . ." She gave up trying to explain herself. Mirroring his expression, she _hmphed_ and nodded sharply at him before standing from the table and storming off.

Draco met Harry's bewildered gaze, but he didn't know what to make of Hermione's insane action, either. Shrugging and shaking his head, Harry spun on a heel, taking off after his best friend as she darted out the doors.


	2. A Harmless Fib

**My other current **_**HP **_**Fanfictions:**

_A Night Unfettered _(Dramione [One-Shot, Lemon])

_Distractions _(Dramione/Harmione/Hints of Drarry [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

_Lessons in Hedonism _(Draco-Hermione-Blaise [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

_Nights at Malfoy Manor _(Dramione/Bits of Lumione/Hints of Harmione)

_The Scavengers _([AU] Dramione)

_Silver Blood _([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me _(Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_Unnatural Magick _([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

* * *

**Chapter Two**

A Harmless Fib

"Hermione . . . Hermione!" Harry had trailed after her, calling her name repeatedly, all the way to the Gryffindor common room.

She sighed heavily, halting beside the sofa as her shoulders drooped. Though Hermione knew she could always have simply darted up the stairs and ducked into the girls' dormitory wing, she also knew that she couldn't avoid him forever. Running away from him right now would only prolong the inevitable . . . and possibly put a strain on their friendship.

Pivoting on a heel, she faced him, but couldn't bring herself to look at him, her gaze tracing the pattern of the carpet behind his feet. "What?"

His green eyes shot wide behind the wire rim of his glasses. "You did not just _what_ me, Hermione! What the bloody hell was that, just now in the Great Hall?"

Shrugging, she fidgeted with her hands behind her back. "You said we should . . . lighten up this year, and not be so serious?"

Harry's face fell as he exploded, "Since when does 'not be so serious' translate to 'snog a former Death Eater in front of everyone'? What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," she said with a sigh, grateful for a moment of honesty, since the only thing she had to follow this up with was a lie.

"Then why—"

"I was dared to!" She forced out the words, afraid that if she didn't speak them forcefully enough, she'd sound weak, and he'd know she wasn't being honest with him. "You said to have fun this year, so I . . . I got involved in a game of silly dares. I didn't know I'd be told I had to kiss Malfoy, so I—I thought, just get it over with."

Harry's spine loosened, and the set of his shoulders drooped. He hadn't realized his back had been painfully straight and rigid since the moment Hermione'd grabbed Malfoy's face. That his stomach had clenched and knotted unpleasantly when she'd kissed the pale-haired young man was another matter—one he didn't want to mull over, just now.

"Okay, all right. I just . . . ." His lips pulled into a line for a few heartbeats before he went on, "Who was it that dared you?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up as she fought, still, not to look at him. She couldn't—at least not until she was able to speak truthfully, again. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because everyone knows how much you and Malfoy hate each other. Seems kind of sick to me."

"Which is . . . probably exactly why they chose that dare for me," she concluded with a shrug. "And, anyway, I can't tell you who dared me, it's a secret. All part of the game."

Harry only sighed, shaking his head as she met his gaze, finally. "So that's it then?"

Nodding, she forced a smile. "That's it. Please," Hermione worked up her best pleading look, reaching out to grip a fist into his sleeve. "Please, don't fuss about it, Harry."

Harry only frowned at her, unable to speak for a second. Rolling his eyes, he at last said, "Fine. Let's . . . go back down there, and get something to eat. Tell everyone it was a joke, or something."

Her body sagged as she shook her head, folding her arms around herself. The idea that she'd just lied to Harry nauseated her. "You go, I don't . . . I don't think I can eat right now. Guess that turned my stomach a bit."

Without waiting for his response, she turned and darted toward the dormitory staircase.

He watched her go, speaking only when he was certain she was out of ear-shot. "Mine, too." Outside of the fact that it was Malfoy, he couldn't make heads or tails of what else about that scene had bothered him so.

His bit his lip in determination as he nodded. Daring her to kiss a boy she hated? That sounded . . . catty, definitely something one girl would do to another. The only question was, which girl was it?

* * *

Hermione dreaded sleep that night, afraid that she'd see Set, again. Afraid that he'd tell her more of what he expected of her, which would only make this most recent turn of insanity in her life more difficult to ignore.

She tossed and turned all night, frequently mashing her cheek against her pillow as she sighed and huffed, uselessly. Surely this wasn't the end of it, Harry wasn't likely to forget this any time soon, Malfoy, himself, even less so.

Eventually she drifted off, but she couldn't recall what she'd dreamt when she awoke the next morning. She thought, if she concentrated, she could vaguely recall the tingling, delicious warmth of someone's bare skin pressed to hers, and the tickling drag of fingertips along her body, over and over . . . all while she slept.

The impression felt innocuous enough, certainly, but there was a dreadful twisting in her gut . . . . The idea that the gentleness was some reward for committing a thoughtless act—as requested. And for making that thoughtless act an intimate, if extremely brief, physical encounter with Draco—also as requested.

If there were rewards for pleasing Set, then . . . . A sense of unease stole over her as she reluctantly completed the thought.

If there were rewards for pleasing him, surely there would be consequences for disappointing him.

* * *

"Who was it!"

Startled by the high, tight pitch, Hermione looked up from her book. When she'd entered the library not five minutes ago, the entire place had been empty, but now, Luna, Romilda, Hannah, Susan, the Patil twins and Pansy Parkinson—what on earth were any of them doing with Pansy?—were crowded around the table.

Hermione blinked rapidly several times as she looked at each of them, in turn, before swallowing hard. "I'm . . . I'm sorry, who was what?"

Pansy scowled, an eyebrow arched as she pulled out a chair and sat. Clearly, there was a Slytherin-only class on grumpy facial expressions. "Who dared you to kiss Draco?"

Unable to help herself, Hermione cracked a wicked half-grin. "Not jealous, are you, Pansy?"

Dark eyes rolling, the Slytherin girl waved a dismissive hand. "Please, we've been over for ages. We want to know, because—"

"Harry's been asking," Luna's soft, tinkling voice cut in. The blond offered a gentle shrug. "He said he thought it was a girl, and when none of us could tell him anything, he started getting a little . . . persistent about it."

Pansy once more rolled her eyes. "Persistent? He practically _accused_ each one of us of setting out to traumatize you."

Romilda winced, but remained silent.

Scoffing, Pansy thundered on. "What? Please, she helped kill Voldemort, remember? I'm pretty sure snogging Draco is _far _from the most trying thing that's ever happened to her."

"Well, you would know all about snogging Draco, wouldn't you?" Parvati said, smiling shyly.

Pansy smirked. "Well, yes, that would be my point now, wouldn't it?"

Hermione couldn't help a laugh as the other girls giggled. There was something oddly comforting in being surrounded by them, in just being one of the girls for the first time in . . . oh, she didn't even know how long. In fact, she wasn't even certain she'd _ever_ been just one of the girls.

She wasn't too keen on Pansy's presence, but then so much had changed after the War. Now, the Slytherin girl showed none of the anger or spitefulness she once had in her expression whenever she'd met Hermione's gaze.

After the laughter quieted—giving her the time she'd needed to cobble together a story—she drew a deep breath and finally started explaining. "It . . . it was _me_." When they all stayed quiet, when she looked around to see them all watching her as though she might be mad, she rushed on, "I dared myself. After everything that's happened, I thought maybe it would be a way to . . . let loose, maybe start the year off a little . . . unexpectedly."

"Well, you certainly managed that," Padma said, grinning broadly.

Hermione shrugged. If this worked the way she hoped, maybe she'd buy herself more time with Set, give him just enough minor chaos to keep him sated until she could figure out what to do about him. "I'm always so . . . planned and ordered, and thoughtful. But we've been through so much that I wanted to do something different; be spontaneous. So, I tried to think of things I would be least likely to do . . . then I walked into the Great Hall and saw Malfoy sitting there. First thought that popped in my head was—"

"That you'd never kiss Draco Malfoy," the twins said in giggly unison.

Waving her hand in a _there you go_ gesture, Hermione nodded. "That's why I couldn't tell Harry who dared me, 'cause he'd never have believed me." Biting her lip, in every attempt to appear as though she was only thinking of this now, she leaned closer to the group, her arms crossed and her elbows sliding against the polished wood of the table. "Why don't you all try it, too?"

"You want us all to kiss Malfoy?" Hannah's eyebrows shot up.

Pansy barked a laugh, and Hermione's mouth gaped—all the while, she tried to tell herself her face didn't redden at the thought of the other girls feeling what she'd felt when she'd kissed Draco—but Pansy was the one who replied. "No, twit. She means we should all dare ourselves to do something we never would've before. Maybe, even . . . something we shouldn't, right?" She winked at the Gryffindor girl and bit her lip.

Hermione forced a nod, grinning, but a little surprised that Pansy was actually being so cool, and so . . . not-terrible. "Ex—exactly."

The group's gazes darted around to one another. They all laughed, their voices dropping to conspiratorial whispers as they talked about what they thought they might want to do. Hermione stayed quiet, letting herself be comforted by the sounds of chatting and laughter.

* * *

Hermione frowned as her quill slipped from her bag, gliding out between one of the gaps in the staircase's thick, granite railing to land somewhere on the floor below. Sighing and hanging her head, she hurried down the steps and rounded the end of the banister.

At least this section of Hogwarts was quiet, right now—classes had just finished, and most students were headed back to their Houses, anyway—so she didn't have the embarrassment of anyone seeing her scurry to fetch her quill.

Her frown deepened as she looked around the floor for the writing implement, her movement bringing her closer to the darkened nook beneath the staircase. The space was far too dark to even make out the white edge of the feather.

"Damn it," she said in a hissing whisper, extracting her wand as she stepped into the darkness. "_Lumos."_

Her eyebrows shot up as she saw a pair of black wingtips on the floor. Following them upward to take in the figure in front of her, Hermione's heart thumped even before her gaze reached his face—she already knew who held her quill in a perfect, pale, long-fingered hand.

"Malfoy," she forced his name out from between clenched teeth. She'd been avoiding him all day, and yet, the only way her quill could have found its way out of her bag and into his hand so easily . . . . "When did you spell my quill?"

"You've been so busy trying to look everywhere I'm _not_, when we have several classes together. Is it really so hard to believe you weren't paying attention for the two seconds it took me to do that?"

"Fine." Swallowing hard, she snatched the quill from him and stuffed it back in her bag. "_Why_ did you spell it?"

"To get your attention."

Sighing, Hermione set her bag on the floor. This could take a while. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Draco's dark brows shot up into his silvery-blonde bangs. "You're here talking to me after avoiding so much as looking at me the entire day."

"All right, fine!" She held up her free hand in a sign of surrender. "You have my attention. What do you want?"

"Pansy told me someone dared you to kiss me last night."

"Yes. So? What, you don't believe her?"

He frowned, scowling and shaking his head. "Oh, no. I believe that's what you told her. It's _you_ I don't believe."

"Why not?" Hermione was so jarred that Malfoy was the only one to call her on her lie, that she couldn't be anything but shocked.

"Because this is you," he said with a sneer, as he gave her a once-over. "I'd first thought it _had _to be a dare, myself, you know. But then I started _actually_ thinking that over. If someone told you to do something you didn't want to—even in a dare—you wouldn't do it. So I'll ask this _one_ time. What in Merlin's name was that about last night?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed, before forcing another gulp down her throat. "I . . . I can't say."

Draco frowned, her sudden, skittish response unlike her . . . at least when she was around him. Granger was usually loud, and angry, and snarling when butting heads with him over anything. "Merlin's beard, someone's doing something to you."

Her already widened chestnut eyes flashed wider, still, as she held his gaze. "No, no. No one's doing . . . anything to me."

Shoulders slumping, he opened his mouth to respond, but stopped. Certainly, he—of _all _people—knew the face of someone being pressured, but what should he care? "You know what? Never mind. None of my concern."

Collecting herself, she nodded. If this had been anyone she'd trusted, she might've slipped just now and blurted out exactly what was going on.

As she turned to step from the nook, someone quite large bustled past, unaware of knocking her back. She stumbled over her bag, bumping into Draco in the cramped space. The light of her wand's point went out as it fell from her fingers.

"Professor McGonagall!" Slughorn called, his voice thick with concern in a way Hermione wasn't certain she'd heard before.

"Granger, mo—"

"Shh," she whispered over her shoulder, too focused on whatever might be happening in the corridor to think about how she was pressed against him. "This might be important."

She craned her neck, peering into the lighted passage before them. The Head Matron's face was puckered in a worried expression.

"What is it Horace? I'm terribly busy at the moment."

"Someone got into the potions room between classes and switched all the labels around! That could be dangerous!"

McGonagall's eyes widened, her brows drawing downward. "Someone . . . . I don't understand, who would—"

"Minerva!" Flitwick hurried along the corridor, staring up in panic. "Sybill's been taken to the hospital wing!"

"What!"

"She, um . . . ." The little man looked uncomfortable, suddenly. "She seems to have burned her . . . her bum."

Draco chuckled under his breath. The sound was low, but he was so close that it was right in Hermione's ear, making the stifled laugh seem louder to her. Spinning around, she reached up to blindly clamp a hand over his mouth.

"How did that—"

"She said she thinks one of the students used a flame charm to . . . ignite her knickers."

Hermione bit hard into her lip to keep from snickering. Feeling Draco's wavering breath against her hand wasn't helping, in the slightest.

"What is _happening_?" McGonagall's voice was shrill in a mix of anger and bewilderment. "I'll . . . be right there. Horace, do whatever you need to sort out the potions."

Hermione didn't budge until they were gone. She slipped her hand from Draco's mouth and he burst out laughing.

Once more, she had to bite her lip before speaking, afraid she'd laugh, too. "This isn't funny! Professor Trelawney could be hurt."

"A teacher's knickers being set ablaze is always funny."

She couldn't help herself from spurting a giggle. "All right, it's a little funny." She couldn't explain that whatever confusion was going on was her fault, that if Professor Trelawney was injured, then she was really the one to blame for setting things in motion.

In the space of a single, thudding heartbeat, she realized that was the flaw in her plan. She was at fault for anyone who might be harmed by the self-given-dares.

He felt her tremble against him, and lifted his hands—instinctively, before he even knew he'd moved—to grasp her shoulders. "Granger? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she forced out the word.

Hermione inhaled deeply and froze. She was acutely aware of the rise and fall of his chest—of the feel of him pressing just a bit tighter to her breasts, every few heart beats—of his breath, sweeping warm over her cheek.

She shuddered in his hold and neither spoke for a moment.

"What's going on here?" Draco said, his voice soft, tone mystified.

"I . . ." Her brow furrowed, trying to ignore the giddy fluttering in the pit of her stomach, and the heat flooding her cheeks. "I don't know. Malfoy, please, just let me—"

"You still going to tell me someone dared you last night?"

Even in the pitch darkness, she could tell he'd leaned down, just a little, just enough to bring his face a little closer to hers. "Y—yes, yes. Because that's . . . what happened." Her breath trembled, and her words shook.

"Well, then, Granger . . . I dare you to do it again."

Hermione felt the brush of air on her lips as he exhaled . . . all she had to do was rise up on her toes, and close the distance, yet she was scared. Not because she didn't want to, but because she _did_.

"Um, I'm—I'm sorry, what?" The moment she said the words, she_ knew_ that he was aware she was deliberately playing dumb.

She started a little at the immediate sensation of Draco's mouth moving ever so lightly against hers as he whispered, "Kiss me, again. I _dare_ you."


	3. A Little Secret

**(And yes- since it's been brought up, Harry is in denial. Deep denial, because to admit what he sees would mean having to address why it angers him so much, and he's not ready to acknowledge his changing feelings, yet)**

* * *

**My other **_**HP **_**Fanfictions:**

_A Night Unfettered _(Dramione [**One-Shot,** Lemon])

_Distractions _(Dramione/Harmione/Hints of Drarry [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

**NEW!**_ Dame Blanche _(Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Lessons in Hedonism _(Draco-Hermione-Blaise [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

_Nights at Malfoy Manor _(Dramione/Bits of Lumione/Hints of Harmione) **COMPLETE!**

_The Scavengers _([AU] Dramione)

_Silver Blood _([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me _(Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_Unnatural Magick _([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

* * *

**Chapter Three**

A Little Secret

Harry looked up from the book in his lap, a frown gracing his lips as he darted his gaze about the common room. Classes had been over for a bit now, yet there was no sign of Hermione.

His frown deepened as he flashed back to finding her stuck in the library. Likely that's exactly where he'd find her again. As he stood, setting down the book, another thought struck him.

The image of Hermione kissing Malfoy crossed his mind, deepening his frown further, still, into a truly unhappy and frightening visage. This notion of someone thinking it funny to put her up to that turned his stomach. And the moment, itself, made him . . . .

Harry held in a sound that he knew would have been strangely close to a growl as he shook his head and strode to the common room door.

* * *

Peeves chuckled, in utter amusement, and a strangely prideful sense of approval, as he watched the twins scurrying about the dais of the Great Hall.

Parvati paced the edge, keeping look out as Padma went to each of the teacher's seats. She held one hand over her face, careful not to touch or inhale the mixture as she coated the armrests of the teachers' chairs with jinxed color powder.

She bit her lip, trying not to giggle at the mental image of Professor Flitwick having pretty, pastel-blue skin for the next week.

* * *

Blaise opened the door to his dorm and stepped in before looking up.

There, sprawled on his bed was Pansy. The dark-haired witch had her uniform robes draped across her in a way that suggest she wore nothing beneath.

He swallowed hard, his jaw going slack.

She arched a brow, smirking at him. "Are you just going to stand there, staring, or are you going to close that door and come see if I've _actually _got nothing on under these robes?"

Reaching back blindly, he swung the door shut and tapped the knob with his wand, spelling it to stay sealed.

* * *

Hermione's thought fled her, and she found herself leaning into Draco.

He didn't know if he was more shocked or pleased at the feel of her mouth pressing to his. Before he could act, she'd tilted her head a little further, the tip of her tongue darting out to trace his lips. He parted them, sighing into her, as he had last night.

She shivered at the strange, tingly warmth that shared breath sent washing through her and she pulled back, unaware of quite when she'd gripped her fingers into his shirtfront. In the darkness, she could only gaze at where she estimated his eyes to be.

"We . . . we can't do this," she said in a whisper.

She didn't really hear his responding chuckle, so much as she felt the rumbling in his chest. "We?" he echoed, his voice tinged with amusement. "I'm not the one clinging to you, Granger."

He moved sooner than she could bashfully pull away, his hands sliding down her sides to settle over her hips, and then circling her to hold her against him. Lowering his head once more, he gauged where her mouth was from the feel of her trembling breath against his skin.

Draco mimicked her action from a moment ago, running the tip of his tongue along her lips.

She was acutely aware of his mouth hovering over hers, of his breath, of the heat of his body pressed to hers. Their hampered sight seemed to heighten the sense of touch, making her mindful of every inch of him against her, of every point of physical contact between them.

"Well, Granger," he murmured, his lips brushing over hers. "Dare's over. What _are_ you going to do, now?"

Another trembling breath rushed out of her, tickling his skin, and then she opened her mouth, inviting him.

He slid a splayed hand up into her hair, cupping the back of her head. His tongue thrust between her lips to caress hers, tasting and teasing.

Hermione felt an inexplicable urge, relinquishing her grip on his shirt to run her fingers along his body through his uniform. She wanted to know what he felt like. Just this once, just for this moment. After all, this_couldn't _happen again.

. . . Could it?

He groaned, his kiss turning hungrier and more demanding, but didn't stop her as she tugged roughly at his clothes, pulling his shirt from his trousers. Her hands slipped beneath, and he trembled just a little under her curious fingers.

She traced along the lines and dips of his abdomen, and upward, over his chest. The edges of her nails scratched against his nipples and his fingers clenched, tightening his grip on her in response.

A sweet, pulsing warmth thudded low in her body, and she followed an instinct, pushing her hips forward. She broke the kiss, nudging his chin up to bring her lips to the side of his throat.

He let out a low, rumbling sound, shifting his pelvis to press back. The hand at her back slipped down, cupping her bottom and pulling her tighter to him.

_I bid you take him_.

Set's words echoed through her mind as she focused on the feel of Draco moving against her. She realized with a shock, as terrifying to her as it was utterly delicious, that she'd made him hard.

Gasping, she started, pulling back in his embrace. "Oh, oh, God, I'm—I'm sorry!"

"You're going to stop there, you must be joking," he said with a low chuckle.

He loosened his hold, but didn't actually release her, interested to see what she would do with the illusion of escape.

"I said I was sorry, didn't I?" Hermione wasn't clear why, but tears clogged her throat for the barest second—she didn't feel them, instead she heard them in the sound of her voice. "I don't know what I'm doing, okay?"

She turned and took a step, his hands slipping a bit to settle over her hips, once more. But he held on, keeping her in the darkness beneath the staircase.

He realized what that catch in her throat was. That was a sound of uncertainty. "You really _don't_ know, do you?"

Hermione was silent, forcing a gulp down her throat. His fingers tugged her back and she allowed it, backpedaling until he held her against him.

"You honestly have_ no_ idea what you're missing, do you?"

She placed her hands on his forearms, shaking her head, aware that he could feel the motion of her responding gesture.

He dropped a hand, tracing the tips of his fingers up her thigh, inching up the hem of her skirt. "I could _show_ you."

"What makes you think I'd want you to?" Her head rolled back against his chest, and she made no move to stop him, despite her contradictory words.

He lowered his mouth, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Because I'm quite positive I'm not the only one enjoying what just happened."

His fingers continued upward, slipping between her legs to press teasingly against her through her knickers.

A tiny moan sounded in the back of her throat. She squirmed in his arms, gasping as the motion caused her to rub herself against his stroking fingertips.

"I could stop now, then we'd be even, but you still really wouldn't understand" he said, dropping his head to skim his lips along the pulse in her throat.

"_Are _you going to stop?"

He slipped the arm of the hand on her hip tight around her waist and lifted her against him, forcing her to stand on her toes. "I think the real question is," his other hand slipped into the elastic of her knickers, the tip of his fingers seeking the warm, wet little bundle of nerves there. "Do you _want_ me to stop?"

A startled gasp tore out of her as he stroked her. "Oh, God, _no_," she said, without thinking.

Draco chuckled, nibbling at her earlobe as his fingers worked between her thighs. He was being gentle, he knew, wondering what her reaction would be if he stopped being so considerate of her inexperience.

Hermione shuddered as his fingertips moved against her harder, rubbing over her in fast, rough circles. Her muscles started to tense, causing her to tremble.

"It's okay, Granger, I've got you," he murmured, stroking her faster, still, trying to force her over the edge. "Go ahead, keep tensing 'til you reach it."

Hermione followed his instruction, practically pressing him into the wall behind them as she pushed herself. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as the orgasm crashed over her. Her fingers clawed at the arms around her and she arched her back, tilting her pelvis upward, against his hand, and the stroking of his fingers.

He held her tighter, surprised that as it ebbed, she started moving, rocking under his ministrations. More surprising, she seemed to have forgotten her earlier coy act, slipping a hand over his to press his fingers more tightly against her.

When the last sweet, rippling shock left her, Hermione sagged back, catching her breath.

Draco allowed her a few moments. As she recovered, he straightened her knickers and settled her skirt back into place.

When he dropped his hands from her, and she found herself standing on her own, she blinked rapidly a few times. Only now did she realize that she wasn't certain what she expected.

He understood her lack of response. "You can go ahead and make that huffy, dramatic exit, now. I said I was going to show you what you were missing."

"And . . . now, I know," she whispered, her voice shaky.

"And now you know."

She bent blindly in the dark to retrieve her wand and bag. Despite the darkness, she turned back to face him. "Is . . . is this going to happen again?" She knew _Set _would want more, eventually, but she didn't really care what Set wanted right now.

"You tell me."

Hermione bit her lip as she thought. This had felt good—really, _really_, good—but she wasn't sure how she felt about doing these sorts of things with Draco Malfoy. "I don't know," she said, opting for honesty.

"Then we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

Though she was aware he couldn't see it, she nodded, shielding her eyes preemptively as she at last turned and stepped out from beneath the stairwell.

* * *

Harry stopped short as he saw Hermione appear from a darkened nook under one of the staircases down the corridor. He held up a hand, prepared to shout and get her attention.

But then, as she turned a corner and vanished down another hallway, he saw someone else emerge from the darkened space.

Draco Malfoy.

Harry's heart thumped against his ribcage and his skin grew hot. What the bloody hell . . . ? His welling anger grew into something darker as he watched Draco tucking his shirt into his trousers.

Hadn't Hermione's cheeks been flushed when he'd seen her just now?

He bit so hard into his bottom lip he was surprised he didn't draw blood as his hands clenched into trembling fists.

* * *

Hermione heard Harry calling her in the empty corridor. A thrill of fear wound through her and she forced a deep, calm breath before she turned to face him.

"Harry," she completely forgot whatever else she was about to say as she watched him draw closer—as she saw the furious look twisting his features.

"Harry, what—"

"Don't 'Harry, what' me, Hermione! Not again," he said, seething, his voice a low, angry hiss. "First last night's mess in the Great Hall and now _this_?"

That she only blinked at him in bewilderment made him even more irate.

"I just saw you and _Malfoy_!"

Hermione's face fell, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, God, Harry! It's not what it looked like, I promise you!"

"Oh, then what were you doing? Checking him for ticks?"

"No, but . . . ." Honestly, what could she say? For the briefest moment, she imagined telling him everything. And she knew he'd leap in to try and untangle her from this _thing_ haunting her, yet . . . hadn't Harry already done so much for everyone?

She gave up, honestly at a loss for words.

"Hermione, did he _do_ something to you?" His voice rose, and spots of red dotted his cheeks.

Well, now he was just giving himself reasons to get angry. "No, Harry, it's wasn't anything like that." _Not exactly_, she thought, though even her inner voice sounded deceitful to her.

"But you can't tell me what it _is_ like?"

God, she wanted to . . . if only she could make him understand without actually getting him involved. Yet, as a few seconds ago, no such thing came to mind.

"No," she said simply.

"Okay, Hermione, just tell me one thing."

His tone had calmed, but she wasn't certain that was a comfort. "What?"

"Are you shagging Draco Malfoy?"

Her eyes widened, a furious blush coloring her cheeks. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry! No, okay! I've never . . . ." She glanced about, stepping closer, despite that the corridor was deserted. "I've never shagged _anyone_."

Hermione's confession took the steam out of Harry's tantrum instantly. His shoulders slumped and his own eyes grew wide as he held her gaze. "What, really?"

"Yes, really! Why are you so shocked?"

"I dunno, I thought you and Ron—"

"No, Harry, okay! And I can't believe you're making such a fuss about it, either!"

He schooled his features, stuffing his fists into the pockets of his trousers. "I'm _not _making a fuss, I just didn't know."

"Wait a minute," she said, blushing again, but now for a different reason. "Does that mean you and Ginny . . . ?"

Harry's gaze darted from hers as he tried to understand how the conversation got turned around. "Well, if must know, yes. Okay? But that still doesn't explain what you were doing with Malfoy!"

"He was asking me the same thing you did last night." She shook her head, deciding that perhaps a partial truth would feel less weighty than a flat-out lie. "But I avoided him all day, so he . . . spelled my quill to lead me somewhere that I _couldn't _avoid him."

"Then why did he come out of there tucking in his shirt?"

"How the bloody hell should I know? I've no idea what he gets up to."

Harry gave a half-pout as he considered her words. Finally, he slung an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, let's get you back to Gryffindor tower before some other Slytherin sneaks up and absconds with you."

Hermione giggled, both relieved and troubled . . . everything that had just transpired.

* * *

The door popped open just as Draco reached for the knob. He arched a brow, snatching his hand back.

It swung open, and Pansy stepped out.

"Oh," she smiled sweetly, her cheeks flushed and her hair mussed. "Hullo, Draco."

He only nodded, his brow furrowing as she stepped around him and started down the corridor at a brisk walk. Poking his head into the room, he saw Blaise buttoning up his shirt.

"You and Pansy?"

Blaise's eyebrows shot up, a smile curving his lips as he shrugged. "Couldn't even tell you. I came in and she was on my bed."

Draco only nodded, mystified. "Okay, then."

Him and Granger just now, Blaise and Pansy—thank Merlin he'd been preoccupied elsewhere—these business with Professor Trelawney's knickers, and the potions labels.

What the bloody hell was happening at Hogwarts?

* * *

Set grinned, watching the green-eyed young man through the mirror. So, his new Nephthys fancied him, as well, she simply didn't know it, yet. As with the pale-haired one. She was so adorably repressed, wasn't she?

He sank his teeth into his lip, the grin becoming a truly wicked expression as he stepped closer, tracing the tips of his fingers over this . . . _Harry's_ features in the glass. Her thoughts showed him as a powerful one, indeed.

Power in his own right, Nephthys and the pale-haired one at his side?

"Oh, yes," Set whispered, eager for sleep to overtake the girl, again. "He_ is _perfect, isn't he?"


	4. A Moment's Truth

**My other **_**HP **_**Fanfictions****:**

_A Night Unfettered _(Dramione [**One-Shot**, Lemon])

_Distractions _(Dramione/Harmione/Hints of Drarry [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

**NEW!**_ Dame Blanche _(Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Lessons in Hedonism _(Draco-Hermione-Blaise [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

_Nights at Malfoy Manor _(Dramione/Bits of Lumione/Hints of Harmione) **COMPLETE!**

_The Scavengers _([AU] Dramione)

_Silver Blood _([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me _(Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_Unnatural Magick _([AU] Harmione/Dramione in Flashbacks)

* * *

**Chapter Four**

A Moment's Truth

Hermione couldn't sleep. Though, she could feel something tugging at her, trying to force sleep to wash over her. She ignored that she was pretty certain what—or, more precisely, who—that _something_ was.

She couldn't eat at dinner, Harry watched her the entire time. He didn't say anything in particular, no, but she felt the weight of his gaze on her.

He was worried about her, she knew that. She could feel that he knew something was up, even if he wouldn't let himself acknowledge it.

But then the meal was interrupted by a student seated toward the dais shrieking with laughter. As more heads came up to see what caused the commotion, more laughter broke out, until the sound echoed through the Great Hall.

Hermione couldn't help but notice the way the Patil twins ducked their heads when she, too, looked to the source of such hilarity. Upon the dais, in their gilded chairs, the faculty of Hogwarts resembled human-shaped Easter eggs.

Eyes widening, she forced a gulp despite that she couldn't stop a giggle of her own from bubbling up.

Professor McGonagall's displeased, confused face was a delightful bright, but pale purple. She'd paused the meal to announce that after today's rash of incidents, anyone caught playing pranks would face disciplinary action.

Clearly the Head Matron thought she'd made herself clear. Hermione, however, was near-positive the student body had placed emphasis on the word _caught_.

And really, after living through the Second Wizarding War, she had to wonder how on earth the elder witch thought detention would frighten any of them.

There'd been a moment, though. A terrible, heart-trembling moment when, in the midst of raucous laughter and angry, pastel-skinned teachers, Hermione had met Draco Malfoy's gaze.

The grin he wore faded slowly, as did hers. He merely stared at her. From the corner of her eye, she could see the rise of his chest as he inhaled. In a flash, Hermione recalled being in that nook beneath the staircase with him.

The sudden, sharp memory of trailing lips and teasing fingers chased along her skin anew. Reminding herself to breathe, she tore her gaze from Malfoy's, pretending that pushing her untouched food around her plate with her fork was the most interesting and absorbing activity in the world.

Now, as she lay tossing and turning, she couldn't put what had happened out of her mind. Not the Malfoy-thing, God, no. The thing with Harry, his blatant worry that he seemed to think he was so spectacularly keeping under wraps.

It dawned on her, then. He probably didn't realize his concern, himself.

Teeth sinking into her bottom lip, she kicked aside her quilt and climbed out of bed. Perhaps she should consider it a blessing that the _eighth years_ in Gryffindor were few enough that they had their own quarters, thus she didn't have to worry about her middle of the night barging about to wake anyone, unintended.

* * *

Set felt her rise from her bed. Frowning, he closed his eyes, connecting himself to her.

She was walking, quite determined, actually.

A frown graced his lips—he should have known there was a . . . hiccup when she pushed away her need for rest so forcefully.

But then an image of the green-eyed young man played across her mind as she moved. She was going to see him?

Alone, in the dark of night.

A wicked grin curved Set's mouth. Yes, this could work, he simply had to mind what she chose to share with him.

* * *

"Harry," a familiar voice whispered, close to his ear.

He muttered something, smacking his lips together as he turned over in the bed and buried his face into his pillow.

Brow furrowing, Hermione held in a laugh. Sighing, she climbed onto the bed to sit on her knees beside him.

"Harry," she said again. When he didn't stir, she placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, "Harry!"

He gave such a start that he nearly knocked her to the floor. On instinct, he grabbed her arm, pulling her back from the edge as he bolted upright in bed.

"Hermione?" His voice was tinged with confusion as he relinquished his hold on her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She frowned at the way he blinked at her, knowing his vision was awful. Snatching up his glasses from the nightstand, she pushed them onto this face.

"Better?"

He nodded. "Yeah, thanks. That totally detracts from you being here."

"Sorry, I didn't really want to wake you," she said, biting her lip. Dear lord, deciding how to tell him was proving difficult.

Harry misinterpreted her silence. "So you just walked into my room and nearly shook the life out of me by accident?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Her mouth pulled to one side as she scowled at him. "And I was gentle about it, thank you, very much!"

He sighed, scooting over to make room for her to settle beside him.

Her expression suddenly serious, she shook her head at the gesture. "I need to talk to you. I have to tell you something."

For the briefest moment, the thought to tell him about Set flickered across her mind. Instantly the mark on her wrist seared and those strange blue eyes flashed before her.

She swallowed hard, dropping her gaze from Harry's as she put her arm behind her back, afraid to look at the mark. So tiny, barely noticeable unless one knew it was there, yet Hermione knew if she drew attention by examining it now, there would be no way for her to shield it from Harry's awareness.

"Hermione, what is it?"

The worry in his voice gnawed at her. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze as she forced the words. "I . . . I lied to you before!"

Harry frowned, sparing a moment to rub his eyes and then set his glasses straight, again. "Is this about the shagging thing?"

Her shoulders slumped and she groaned, hanging her head. "No, Harry! I swear, is it a male-thing that after a certain age _everything_ is about shagging?"

He flitted his gaze about the room, confused. "It actually might be."

She giggled, a soft, quick sound before she remembered herself. Immediately she school her features, balling her hands into fists as she forced the words, "I meant about Malfoy!"

Harry, for his part, looked like as though his heart had leapt into his throat. "Wait, wait . . . what do you mean you lied about Malfoy? Tell me you're not honestly sh—"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Harry! I already told you I've _never_, okay! No, I mean . . . ." Hermione took a deep breath, and then launched into an explanation so rushed it sounded like one, long word with a_ lot_ of syllables. "No, I told you the truth on that, I really, really did. And I was honest about Malfoy spelling my quill to lure me off, 'cause I'd been avoiding him all day, and he demanded to know why I kissed him. Then, I'm not entirely sure how, but that lead to another kiss, and then _more _kissing, and some touching. But, but that's it, that's what happened, and that's all, I swear! I just didn't tell you before, because I couldn't, I was afraid of how you'd look at me."

Harry blinked a few times, watching Hermione catch her breath. She really couldn't keep a secret from him. Over some kissing, she felt so guilty that she blurted it out to him after only a few hours? But then, that was one of the things he'd always treasured about her.

"So," he said, his tone cautious. "You . . . snogged Malfoy?"

"_And_ there was some touching," she reminded, her voice edged with tears.

"Oh, right, snogged him and touched him." For a split-second, Harry felt acutely uncomfortable, recalling the dreadful image of Draco Malfoy appearing from that darkened nook as he tucked his shirt into his trousers. "You don't mean you touched his—"

"Harry, please! No, of course not!" Hermione made herself meet his gaze, despite the furious blush in her cheeks. "And he didn't force anything, either. It was just . . . I didn't know what I was doing, so things got a little carried away, but it didn't get any further than what I just told you."

He heaved a weighted sigh. "So that's it, then?"

She nodded, her brown eyes enormous and glimmering in the moonlight streaming through the windows. The sound of a laugh rumbling out of him startled her.

"You're not angry with me?"

"Oh, no, I am." He shook his head, "Because . . . you've never . . . yet, somehow you and Malfoy—of all people, Draco Malfoy—end up . . . and it's just . . . ."

Hermione didn't know who was more confused by his current inability to finish a sentence, Harry or her.

Harry's expression flickered, anger flaring in his eyes as he suddenly blurted, "You're all bashful about this mess, and that's really adorable, especially since it sounds like it's not the big of a deal, and yet I'm furious. Because it was with Malfoy. How could you do that with_ him _when I'm _right_ here?"

She felt her breath leave her in a rattling huff.

Harry's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed as he held her gaze. "I didn't mean to say that," he whispered simply.

She recoiled a bit, searching his face. "I didn't know you saw me that way."

Again, he shook his head, a mystified frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Neither did I."

There was a moment of complete silence between them that seemed to emphasize their nearness.

She didn't know what to think, or how to feel about this revelation.

"Do you see me that way?"

Harry's question caught her off-guard. Though, she realized this was a logical follow-up to his own admission. She smirked, lowering her head to drop her gaze into her lap as she recalled a few times when she'd wondered.

"I don't know that I ever _didn't,_ really. I just never thought about it."

Another patch of silence enveloped the room.

"Okay, well, um, I guess I should go now, right?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice so low, she barely heard him.

"I mean," she finally lifted her gaze to meet his, shrugging. "I already told you what I came to tell you, so . . . ."

He nodded. "Of course."

She didn't know who moved first, but suddenly she was in his arms, straddling his lap as he thrust his tongue between her lips. Her fingers latched around the back of his neck as his hands slipped low, cupping her bottom to pull her against him.

Hermione broke the kiss, withdrawing only enough to look into his eyes. "Wait, wait! What are we doing?"

His brow furrowed behind the wire-rims of his glasses. "Seriously?"

"I was telling the truth before. I've never—"

His laugh cut her off. "_Now_ who's the one making everything about shagging? We don't have to go that far. We don't even have to get close to it."

Her bewildered expression only made him laugh harder.

"You really _were_ telling the truth."

She couldn't help that her gaze kept falling to his mouth each time he spoke. "Then what are we doing?"

Harry shrugged. "Same thing we always do at Hogwarts, Hermione."

Her eyebrows shot up in question.

"_Exploring_," he said with an inviting half-smile.

Hermione nodded, warmth flooding her cheeks as she let Harry nudge her head back to bring his lips to her throat.

His hands circled forward, moving up to cup her breasts through her cotton of her nightshirt. God, she was so sensitive that even though they'd barely started, her nipples were hard. He couldn't help smirking wickedly as he dropped his head, biting teasingly at her through the fabric.

She gasped, her fingers sinking into his hair and gripping, holding his head against her. She shuddered as he slid a hand downward, between their bodies to press between her thighs.

"That feels _really_ good," she said, her whispered words timid.

She was shy about it, but still able to tell him what she liked. That was good. And the spot against which he rubbed his fingers was warm. _So warm_, he thought, feeling a bit greedy suddenly. The way she trembled and moaned beneath his touch, when he'd hardly done anything, didn't help.

She was so innocent, though, he knew he had to do this slowly, and gently. Which meant not so much fun for himself, but he could still enjoy giving her reason to sneak into his room, again.

He lifted his mouth from her throat, speaking so that his lips brushed her ear as he formed the words. "Hermione, lie back."

Pulling back to look at him, she blinked drowsy eyes at him. "Hmm? Why?"

* * *

Set chuckled. Oh, he liked this young wizard, indeed!

* * *

Harry caught her bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling for a drawn out moment. "Trust me. Would you feel better if I promised you don't have to take anything off?"

Forcing a gulp—hating that she knew so little, but her trust in Harry calmed her anxiety a bit—she nodded.

"You don't have to take anything off," he repeated. "Now just lie back."

Shifting off his lap, she did as he told her. A moment passed during which they only stared at one another again, causing her to think that he was about to change his mind and tell her to leave.

But then he moved, crawling over her. He leaned down, kissing her hard, and then drifted lower, dragging his lips over her jaw and down her throat.

She couldn't help a giggle as he continued along her body, nipping playfully at her through her nightshirt.

He lowered himself, balancing his weight on his forearms as he brushed his lips over the bared bit of skin between the nightshirt and the matched cotton bottoms.

Once more she giggled, sinking her fingers into his hair. A thrill ran through her as he parted her legs and settled between them. She snapped her head up, a bit fearful as she looked to see what he was doing.

He knew what her reaction would be, and so he paused, waiting until she met his gaze. The moment they made eye contact, he lowered his face, burying his mouth between her thighs.

Hermione bit hard into her lip to keep from crying out at the feel of his lips and teeth working against her through the warm, damp fabric.

He watched her face; watched, pleased with himself, as her head fell back. Her hands slipped from him to clutch at the covers beneath them. Her hips jerked beneath his ministrations, quick, erratic motions, and he thought of a better use for her hands.

Well, at the very least, it might cause her to blush some more, which he was starting to find rather becoming. He nuzzled his face against her, before pulling back again to focus on that singular, most sensitive spot.

Hermione distantly felt him take her hands in his and guide them. She was surprised to find that their destination was her breasts. She wanted to pull them away, suddenly shy, but he clumsily, blindly shaped his fingers over hers, to knead the rounded flesh.

If she pretended she wasn't enjoying it, she'd be lying to Harry _and_ herself.

He felt her begin to tremble beneath him, her body tensing. Making a sound that might've been a growl, he sighed against the damp, warm fabric before working his jaw against her more sharply.

She cried out, her back arching, pushing herself more firmly to his mouth as she came. He nuzzled, and nipped, scraping his teeth against her, sending sweet little sparks rippling through her.

Realizing she'd been too loud, she bit her lip again, holding in her moans. She forced her pelvis to rock against his mouth the second the orgasm had ebbed enough that she could move.

He guided her through it, working harder and faster, and then gradually slowing until her muscles gave out, and she all but collapsed beneath him.

The room was silent for a long while afterward. He settled his chin against her thigh, staring up at her as she caught her breath.

Finally, she raised her head, meeting his gaze. For another moment—painfully long and quiet—she didn't react. But then she cracked a slip of a smile. Before she knew it, she was laughing, and so was he.

"Problem," she said softly, once she was certain she could speak without her voice trembling.

"Hmm?" Harry made the sound as he crawled back up the bed.

"I'm not sure I can move, now."

Harry chuckled at her.

"I'm serious, I'm _exhausted_," she murmured, fighting to keep her eyes open.

"Yes, between Malfoy and me, I'm sure you've had a_ terribly_ long day. You poor thing."

She gave a tired giggle. "Don't be snarky."

"Sleep here."

She frowned, voicing a protest, despite that she was already moving, albeit sluggishly, to join him under the covers, "We could get in trouble, Harry!"

"Please, Hermione. This is _us_, I'm sure there's probably loads of people expecting to find us like this, eventually."

As she fell asleep, curled up against her best friend, and her head pillowed on his crooked arm, she could only nod in agreement. They probably did.

Strange, disconnected images played through her mind as she slept. Draco and Set, Set and Harry . . . . Harry and Draco? Quick flashes, nothing to which she could apply context. A confusing whirl of images that left her feeling as though she was missing something right in front of her.

* * *

Hermione awoke to the sound of someone gruffly clearing their throat. Blinking her bleary eyes open, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Harry," she whispered, elbowing him.

"Hmm? What, Hermione?" he groaned, still sleepy as lifted his head from behind hers to follow her gaze.

An angry, still lilac-faced Professor McGonagall stared down at them, her fists propped on her hips. "You two, my office. Now!"

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Harry, her expression worried

Harry couldn't help meeting her look of concern with a sheepish grin.


	5. A Veiled Understanding

**(Repeated from 9/11/14 update to ****_Unnatural Magick_****)**

**GENERAL UPDATE ANNOUNCEMENT****:**

**Since completing ****_Nights at Malfoy Manor_**** and ****_The Scavengers_****, the remainder of my current, in-progress fics are all 5 chapters or under. Therefore, I will focus on pulling them all up to their 5****th**** chapters (good news readers who follow my AFF-exclusive stories, this means 2 ****_guaranteed_**** updates to ****_Lessons in Hedonism_**** over the next few weeks *wink, wink*), and then get them on a set rotation, so you guys can have a more accurate schedule of when to expect updates to the fic(s) you're following. :)**

**Unfortunately, this means ****_Chaos Artifact_****, ****_Distractions_****, ****_Silver Blood_**** & ****_Teach Me_**** are "on hold" until ****_Dame Blanche_****, ****_Lessons in Hedonism_****, ****_Mortality_****, ****_Tourniquet_**** & ****_Unnatural Magick _****reach their 5****th**** chapters. Though, once this done, ****_Distractions_**** & ****_Lessons_****, as my only PwPs will be moved into an update rotation separate from my other fics.**

* * *

**I apologize for this chapter being so delayed, I'd started it on 9/12, but a weekend stomach virus & family drama sidelined it.**

* * *

**My other****_ HP _****Fanfictions**:

_A Night Unfettered_ (Dramione [**One-Shot**, Lemon])

_Dame Blanche_ (Dramione/Harmione [possible Drarry])

_Distractions_ (Dramione/Harmione/Drarry [PwP; _only _on AFF. net])

_Lessons in Hedonism_ (Draco-Hermione-Blaise [PwP; _only_ on AFF. net])

**NEW!** _Mortality_ ([AU] Dramione)

_Nights at Malfoy Manor_ (Dramione) **COMPLETE!**

_Silver Blood_ ([DARK FIC] Dramione/Harmione)

_Teach Me _(Dramione/Scormione [18 yr. old Scorpius])

_Tourniquet_ (Lumione/Dramione)

_Unnatural Magick _([AU] Harmione [Dramione in flashbacks])

* * *

**Chapter Five**

A Veiled Understanding

"What were you thinking?"

Hermione winced as she and Harry stood before the Head Matron's desk. Still in their nightclothes—she hadn't even allowed them to dress—sleep-rumbled, but wide-eyed, on account of their abrupt and unpleasant wakeup call.

Though, for the first time in her life at Hogwarts, the girl felt a bizarre lack of intimidation in the face of her favorite professor's wrath. She imagined that was likely because fear was a difficult thing to muster when she was so very busy puzzling over precisely which shade of purple she should use to best describe the teacher's pretty, if temporary, new skin color.

As Miss Granger offered her no response, Professor McGonagall turned her pinpoint glare on Harry. "Well, Mr. Potter?"

Harry balked, blinking rapidly a few times. "Why are you asking me? I woke up and there she was in my bed. I was just as surprised as you, professor!" _The first time,_ he thought, barely managing to keep a straight face.

"Fine." She returned her attention to Hermione, a forced, utterly mirthless, little grin on her lips. "Miss Granger?"

"Hmm?" Hermione gave herself a shake, her gaze darting from the professor, to Harry—who's eyes glimmered with embarrassed amusement, though it didn't show in his expression—and back. "Oh, well, that's true professor."

When silence fell, once more, and it became clear that Miss Granger thought that meager response enough, the professor stood painfully straight. She folded her arms beneath her breasts and tapped a foot against the floor, the sound quite distinct, and a little unnerving.

The words to supply an appropriate, acceptable response formed seemingly on their own, tumbling from Hermione's lips nearly before she even realized she was speaking. "I've been having bad dreams since returning to classes this year. I was simply scared, and didn't want to be alone. So I," she shrugged, lowering her gaze, "just went to Harry's room and crawled under the blankets. I don't even think I was_ really_ thinking through what I was doing. I was half-asleep and frightened, I'm sorry."

Harry's eyebrows shot up behind the wire rims of his glasses. The professor caught his gaze, but he could only offer a shrug of his own as he waved a hand in Hermione's direction, the gesture clearly stating _I told you so._

The tension in Professor McGonagall's shoulders eased and her expression softened. "Miss Granger, you could have come to me at any time with this. Do you want to speak to anyone about your nightmares?"

Hermione's gaze shot to the Head Matron's. Swallowing hard, she shook her head. She couldn't tell anyone an ancient Egyptian god was pestering her in her sleep, nor did she think she had it in her to come up with a convincing tale of dark and terrifying nighttime imaginings.

"I think I'll be all right, professor. I just need a little time after everything."

The professor nodded, resting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Under the circumstances, I will let you both slide with a warning. However, Miss Granger, the next time you have bad dreams, I would suggest you seek Madame Pomfrey's aid. I'm sure she has a potion for dreamless sleep somewhere in her rather extensive cupboard."

McGonagall withdrew her hand, and made her way around her desk. "Now," she gathered the length of her robes in her hands and carefully sat. A sound like a set of bagpipes deflating rang through the air as she settled in.

She looked to the two of them, pointedly, one brow arched. That they both wore startled expressions at the sudden noise was quite telling, the professor felt. It spoke to their lack of awareness about whatever had been done to her favorite chair.

"Do either of you two know anything about this recent rash of pranks?"

Hermione breathed an easy sigh, the elder witch's choice of words allowed her to deny any knowledge of _pranks_ guilt-free, as a matter of semantics. She and Harry exchanged a bewildered glance and then shook their heads.

Now, had the woman asked about _dares_ . . . .

* * *

For a long while, as Harry and Hermione made their way back to Gryffindor tower, they were silent.

"Nightmares?"

She met Harry's gaze as they walked. "Kept us out of trouble, didn't it?"

He nodded, pursing his lips. "So," he said after a moment of thought, "no truth to that, right?"

Sparing the second necessary for her to process an answer that would stop Harry from getting involved with Set—she hadn't _technically_ had any nightmares, just a bizarre dream and a night of non-quite-dreaming—she shook her head. "No truth to that."

Neither of them was keen to speak on the other issue, the one now looming over their heads. But an awkwardness fell between them as they each realized they were deliberately avoiding it.

"We're still friends, right?" Harry said, his voice low.

Hermione halted, turning to face him. "You mean we're still _only_ friends?"

"Yes, th—that's what I mean."

She couldn't help a giggle at his sudden nervousness—this wasn't about liking her, or something ridiculous like that, he wanted to be certain what had happened between them last night didn't change her feelings toward him. "Yes, Harry. We're still only friends. I'm okay with that, if you are."

He tried to hide a half-smile. "I'm okay with it."

"Good," she turned forward, but he didn't fall into step beside her and she looked back at him. "Harry?"

Holding her gaze for a long moment, he bit his lip.

She knew that look. That look meant he wanted to say something, but wasn't certain how she'd take it. Eyebrows shooting up her forehead, she turned back to face him fully, once more.

"This thing with you and Malfoy . . . . Is it going to happen again?"

Hermione's shoulders drooped, her entire frame seeming to crumble before his eyes as she groaned. Dragging herself back up to stand straight, she drew in a deep breath and let it out, slowly. She couldn't lie to him about this, and she didn't even want to try.

"I'll tell you exactly what I told him after it happened, and that's that I don't know. I honestly don't."

Harry set his jaw, but remained silent.

"Oh, no, Harry, don't give me that look," she said, her voice tight. "You want me to lie to you?"

Sighing, he shook his head. "No, of course not."

"Then it is what it is, okay?" Frowning, she darted her gaze about. "I'm not going to go looking for it to happen again, or doing anything to try to make it happen, but I know now that I can't guarantee that it was a one-time thing."

"So this is where we are? We're friends, who do other things, and that means we can do those things with others, too?"

Her jaw dropped. Was this where they were now? Seemed to be. "I guess so."

Harry furrowed his brow, uncertain of what exactly was going on, or even how he felt about it. He wasn't angry, simply . . . unsure. "Then you'll go on, snogging Malfoy, if you find yourself in a situation to do so, and I can just go snog anyone I want, too?"

She ignored that she felt a flare of color bloom in her cheeks. "Yes."

"Well, then" he shook his head, feeling, strangely and suddenly, a bit irrational. "Maybe I will."

"You should," she said, nodding, her hands balling into fists.

"Okay, then."

"Okay!"

Hermione stared after Harry as he began stomping toward Gryffindor tower, once more. What the bloody hell had they even just been arguing about? For a long moment, she simply stood there, in the middle of the staircase, blinking rapidly as she tried to process the situation. They weren't a couple, they _weren't;_ they'd _just_ established that. So then, why were they fighting like one?

Had they always fought this way, and she simply hadn't noticed? No, no . . . that couldn't be.

At the top of the steps, he turned to look back at her. "Hermione? C'mon."

Giving herself a shake, she nodded. "Right, sorry."

* * *

_She roused to the feel of fingers gently stroking her cheek. Blinking her eyes open, she saw Set before her. Hermione frowned, but didn't bother trying to move. She knew it would be useless. He had her lying on her back on the chaise, with her head pillowed his lap as he stared down at her, touching her face._

_"Why do you come into my dreams?" Her words spilled out in a sleepy tumble._

_"Because I can," he said his voice soft._

_Set lowered his face, brushing his mouth over hers as he swept his hands down her body. He chuckled, deep and rich, when she moaned softly at the feel of him cupping her breasts. Thrusting his tongue between her lips, he kneaded the soft flesh._

_He relinquished a bit of his control over her, delighted when she arched her back, pushing herself against his hands, caressing his plunging tongue with her own._

_Breaking the kiss, Set dragged his lips across her cheek to whisper in her ear, "I have a surprise for you."_

_He nudged her cheek ever so gently with his chin, turning her head against his thigh to look toward the gilded mirror. On the chaise in the reflection, Harry was in Set's place this time, and Draco . . . Draco sat on his heels beside the chaise, his head resting against Harry's knee as he ran his fingers along her skin._

_She shuddered, feeling that phantom touch. As she watched the scene in the mirror, her breath caught in her throat and she realized there was something sinful and wicked in that—in the feel of Harry's lips trailing along her throat, in his hands _and _Draco's moving over her—and she was _enjoying_ it._

_Then Harry opened his eyes and locked gazes with the real Hermione. And those eyes were not the green eyes of her best friend, but the __turquoise-blue of the Egyptian god of chaos._

* * *

Granger hadn't been in class, and Draco hadn't realized he was _actually_ looking for her. Not until he realized he was walking to the library. But, to his surprise, she wasn't there.

With a great deal of sighing and shaking his head at himself—honestly, he didn't care, he didn't, he didn't even know why he was looking for her—he made his way out to the lake for some fresh air. He didn't! And it didn't bother him one bit about this thing with her and Potter being dragged into the Head Matron's office in their nightclothes. After their history with the school, that could have been about _anything_. It didn't have to be about what it looked like.

Draco sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he shook a fist at himself. Even if it was what it looked like, he absolutely couldn't care _less_.

And then, as he stepped onto the shore, he saw her. From the corner of his eye, he caught the trailing of mad, golden-brown locks in the breeze. Turning to look, he saw Granger there, tucked down beside a tree.

Asleep.

Chuckling as he shook his head, he walked over to her and sat down as carefully and silently as he could. There was a strange, savage sort of joy as he prepared to startle her awake.

She shifted in her sleep, making a strangled noise in the back of her throat. Her arm moved against her thigh, tugging up her sleeve.

The bizarre sound made him pull back a bit to look at her. His gaze fell to a small mark on the inside of her wrist. Frowning, he leaned closer, to get a better look at the symbol. Was that a hieroglyph?

Something about it felt . . . strange. Before he realized it, he reached out, the tips of his fingers itching to trace the lines of the symbol.

As he swept a fingertip over her skin, Hermione jerked awake, letting out a short, frightened cry.

He shot back, grey eyes wide as he watched her collect herself.

She breathed deep a few times, exhaling slowly as she tried to make sense of what Set had shown her in the dream. As she darted her gaze about, she noticed her exposed wrist.

Instantly, she met Draco's eyes. Even as she scrambled to pull down the cuff of her sleeve, she knew from the look on his face, she knew he'd seen it. Knew he was wondering about it.

Set's eyes in Harry's face? Did that mean that Set . . . Set wanted to _possess_ Harry? To use him as a vessel, or something? By showing her his intent, Set was bragging. He probably thought she could do nothing to stop him.

And she wasn't certain he was wrong.

Biting her lip, she took a long moment, merely holding Draco's gaze as she forced her eyes not to tear. "Okay," she said forcing a shaky breath.

Draco's brows shot up, aware some silent conflict in that over-thinking head of hers. "Okay?"

She nodded, lowering her gaze. "You said . . . you said you thought someone was doing something to me. I don't think I can tell anyone else. But I'll tell you, maybe . . . maybe you can help, because I don't think I can do this alone."

"Help?" Draco wasn't certain his eyebrows could climb any higher up his forehead than they already were. "Why would you think I'd ever be helpful?" Honestly, everything about him in the course of their time at Hogwarts bellowed the word _untrustworthy._

Hermione fixed him with her very best _oh, please_ look. "Because you didn't only notice that something was happening with me, you _asked_ about it."

Thinking back on their conversation beneath the stairwell, Draco rolled his eyes so hard, the lids fluttered. She was right, damn it all. "Fine, Granger," he said, heaving a weighted sigh. "Tell me."


End file.
